


The Admonishable Prof. Snape

by Bonfoi



Series: Spooky Snupin 2010 [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Community: lupin_snape, HP: EWE, M/M, Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-10
Updated: 2012-04-10
Packaged: 2017-11-03 09:29:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/379899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonfoi/pseuds/Bonfoi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Faking his death gave Severus Snape a way to find a good life.  He just didn’t expect for his past to suddenly show up there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Admonishable Prof. Snape

**Author's Note:**

> **Challenge:** [Spooky Snupin 2010:](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/lupin_snape/579906.html) Prompt #11
> 
>  **Warnings:** Attempted Murder; Murder; Autopsy (nothing gory)

**Severus hates looking too closely at his past, at the scars it left upon him.**

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**_ Disclaimer:_** The world of Harry Potter, its characters and settings are the copyrighted works of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., her publishing companies and affiliates. No profit was made from the writing of this story nor was any malice intended in any way, shape or form to the author or the actors/actresses who so brilliantly have brought them to life. 

This author is not responsible for underage readers. Please observe the ratings, warnings, and age of legal consent for your country.

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11\. The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971) (Dr. Phibes):  
"Love means never having to say you're ugly."

* * *

Remus Lupin awoke from a drugged sleep. The last thing he remembered was crossing the street in front of the Leaky Cauldron and then…nothing.

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The mediwitch bustled about the room, her eyes rarely straying to the man in the bed. Only at the last instant did she reach out and straighten the pillow behind his bandaged head. He moaned a ‘thank you’ which she ignored.

The room was dim, the magical windows of the Janus Thickey Ward adjusted for noonday sun. The inmates muttered or stared, their minds somewhere else…but for one. He steepled his fingers together as he saw the world outside the hospital living, moving on. 

His eyes, shadowed by the bandages that every few days grew thinner and thinner, were sharp. He assessed every face that came through the ward, every security measure, every nuance of life in a ward for the mad or just slightly misaligned. 

One day, when Auror Harry Potter accompanied his lover, Draco Malfoy, to visit his father, the bandaged patient’s chair was empty, but for a cleverly folded bird. Harry Potter’s eyes grew wide when he saw it: it was a phoenix reborn.

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The small sideshow had a loyal following, often drawing Londoners to its Highland shows at the end of the season. The barker was inventive with his turns of phrase, the bearded lady was quite fashionable, the strong man heavily-muscled as well as resourceful, and the magician was more talented than Harry Houdini. There was no one to believe that he truly was a wizard, just a very intelligent man with secrets and scars.

As the last of the applause died down, the magician—Iago Lumens—stepped farther into the shadows at the edge of the stage. He disappeared with a soft pop and the crowd went wild once more. No one backstage knew how he did it, but it was his signature exit, wowing audiences for more than a year.

When Iago appeared near the door of his caravan he didn’t expect to see kind eyes framed by greying sandy blond hair. He said the first thing that came to mind. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

“I came to find you. You’re calling yourself Iago now, but I think I know you.” The man’s voice was soft, cultured and held only a hint of a Midland accent; Severus remembered it well. “They call me Remus Lupin.” The man stuck his hand out for a shake. Iago simply stared at it until it fell back to his side.

“I know you’ve met a great many people in your travels, but I was wondering if you know me.” The smile that accompanied the query was gentle, and Iago’s eyes burned at thought of when he’d seen it last, directed at a bubble-gum-haired hoyden. The man, Remus, blinked when Iago snarled something at him and threw open his caravan door.

The magician’s back was straight, and tense, as he stopped just inside the door. He said testily, “Well, come along, Mr. Lupin! I don’t air my business for all and sundry.” Iago stepped aside, back still turned toward Lupin, a frosty sign to come in.

“You aren’t very polite, are you?” Remus asked. He stepped up, standing next to the magician and noticing how well he’d fit against the man’s side if he but took two more steps. Looking around, he seemed to notice the eclectic furnishings: a battered, buttery-soft leather club chair; a framed portrait of some bearded gent; a hookah with its hoses wrapped in the shape of an ‘S’; and, books on werewolves that were scattered beside the chair and across the narrow bed. He blinked as he looked up at Iago. “You also seem interested in strange things.”

“You wanted to see me. Well, you see me! Speak plainly or leave, makes no difference to me.” Iago took care to keep his shoulder to Remus, hiding the scars that ran down the side of his face.

Remus sat down on the bed uninvited, perhaps realizing that the chair was sacrosanct in that small space. “I think I know you. Before my accident, I mean.” Seeing the tensing of the magician’s shoulders, Remus laughed. “My apologies. I should start at the beginning, though it’s not much.”

“I was walking out of a bar in London when I was run over. I woke up in hospital with a woman and a baby crying over me. I was told my name is Remus Lupin. When others came to visit, a young man with deep green eyes showed me a picture of a man. Of all the faces I’d seen until then, this one was one I knew. I had to learn so many things, but his face was not one of them—it was instant recognition that that man meant something to me.”

Iago snorted and crossed his arms. _A likely story, Lupin! I meant so little that you took up with the metamorphing harlot after only a few months,_ Iago thought to himself. Out loud, he said, “You can’t convince me that a specimen like you falls in love with monsters like me.”

Looking up in disbelief, Remus shook his head. “I don’t know if it’s love, Mr. Lumens. I’d like to believe it’s something wonderful, but all I know is that your face is the most familiar thing in my life. I’d like to talk with you, spend some time with you.”

“Out of the question, Mr. Lupin. Our season is over for the year and I am going away. I do not want—nor need—a companion with a sieve for a brain.” It was a good thing that Remus couldn’t see the wince that accompanied that statement. “As you alluded, I am not a nice man. And I see no reason to expend such energy upon you. The door’s the there. I’d leave now.”

Blinking rapidly, Remus stood up, reaching out only to fall short. He walked toward the door and with his hand on the knob, turned back. “You meant something to me, something so important I gave up the woman and the child. Even the young man knew it and wished me godspeed finding you. You are important, you know. Don’t forget that.” Remus opened the door and exited.

“Blast you, Lupin!” Iago turned and the last rays of the sun illuminated his beaky nose and slashing eyebrows. “How like you to cut up my hard-earned peace.” He felt his eyes watering and dashed the moisture away with a grimace. “Bloody hell…” he sighed.

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In his rebuilt life, Iago Lumens a.k.a. Dr. Alain Napier, was a mortician. Well, not the old-fashioned idea of one, he was a county coroner in a small Highland hamlet. They were used to his sabbaticals—six weeks out of the year—and took great care to not die while he was gone.

Many in the county praised his skill at reconstructing remains for the wakes, for giving life back for the barest instance. He often wanted to sneer at their damning praise, accepted the heartfelt sentiment anyway. His substitute during those sabbaticals was a man named Quentin. Unfortunately, that was who was resting on Dr. Napier’s autopsy table when he returned.

“ _…shows evidence of burning. Blistering along the palms indicate defensive wounds._ ” Dr. Napier turned off his recorder when he felt eyes on his back. “If you’ve come for my report, you’ll have to wait. Dr. Quentin’s wounds are far more extensive than previously thought.”

“So, you’re a coroner in real life, eh?” Dr. Napier jerked slightly as he heard _that_ voice again. “This explains a bit.” Remus Lupin stepped closer, his hands behind his back and his badge prominently displayed on a chain around his neck. “What have you found thus far?”

Frowning down at the corpse, Alain had to concentrate on finding the right words, speaking to the vocal conversation and not the unspoken one. He cleared his throat. “Dr. Quentin’s hands and face exhibit burns of unknown origin. There are blisters with an uncommon green tinge. I’ve taken samples and will run them to the lab when I’m done with my examination.” He never turned to look directly at Lupin, but he still knew when the man nodded.

“Good. I’ll be at the Ball-and-Chain for the duration. If you have a moment, ring me up and I’ll stand you a pint. This isn’t the first case of death complicated by burning.” Alain heard Remus’ footsteps retreat and then stop by the autopsy doors. “I still want to talk with you, but that will wait until after my investigation. I wouldn’t want to rush you into being snappish.” The doors banged together after he’d pushed through, barely drowning out the gnashing of Alain’s teeth.

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Dr. Napier found Remus Lupin—Detective Sergeant Lupin—at a corner table of the only decent public house in the village. He saw the strategic placement of plate and pint, allowing Lupin to survey the area without appearing to and approved, then scolded himself for caring.

“Ah, Dr. Napier! Join me, do. Pint of Guinness?” When Alain nodded, Remus stood up and grabbed pitcher sitting on the bar. “Told the ‘tender to draw it a few minutes ago, saves time.” They settled themselves, Remus pouring Alain an almost headless beer. As they sipped their Guinness, Alain realized they were both in easily defensible positions, an unconscious action.

“I’ve spoken to my superiors. Even the Ministry is interested in these deaths. Your surly self is also of interest to them.” Remus swallowed a long draft as he let Alain digest that fact. “Up until five years ago, you didn’t exist. Officially, that is.”

Alain carefully set down his pint. He felt the slender wood resting on his forearm begin to wriggle. “How?” he asked.

Lupin pushed his plate aside and began turning the half-filled pint between his palms. “Much like I don’t exist, Iago. Strange doings and men without a past often go hand-in-hand. I belong to a special division that investigates strange phenomena—you are a very strange phenomenon.” Remus glanced up and Alain saw that his eyes had taken on a yellowish tinge.

“Shall we take this away from the rest of the pub or shall you accuse me without proof?” _As before_ was unspoken.

“No. You aren’t under suspicion.” Remus looked over Alain’s shoulder intently. A wash of energy flowed over them and the room grew quieter. “There. Will that help? No one can hear us now.”

“I turned my back on that life. I am a country coroner and a stage magician. I am nothing special.” Alain’s lips twisted into a parody of a smile, tugging at the scars running down his left cheek. “As you can tell, I wasn’t enough of a threat to even kill properly.”

Remus leaned forward, his detached policeman’s façade fading as he looked Alain in the eyes. “You are special. I know it! I may not remember how, but I know you mean something to me. With your help, we could both find out.”

“No.” Alain pushed his empty pint away with a faint sneer. “The time for maudlin reunions is over. Go back to…to the woman and the baby.” He looked up. “I live alone, and I’m going to keep it that way.” He stood up so suddenly that the Warding gave a warning squeal. “Are we done? I’ve got to get some rest. Tomorrow, I bury a friend.”

The silence was gone in the blink of an eye, replaced by a pub on a Thursday night with a darts tourney underway. Remus stood as well, his hand coming up slightly before returning to his side. “Thank you, Dr. Napier. I’m certain your report will illuminate many dark corners of my investigation.” He sat down, a clear dismissal. Alain almost missed the twist of sadness in his lips as he turned away.

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“Another body? Like Quentin’s?” Alain looked over at the alarm clock with bleary eyes. “Have you called the police?” He listened as the voice on the other end of the line told him Detective Sergeant Lupin was already on the scene with a photographer and a canvassing officer. “Fine, fine, I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Ring up Vesper, will you? Tell him I’ll meet him there.”

Hurrying through his ablutions, Alain caught himself staring at the scars on his left cheek as he shaved. “No, not worthy of a clean death, were you? They had to maul you only to leave you a pitiful wreck of a man,” he said to his reflection. Unlike the reflections of his youth, this one didn’t say anything in response. “I must be cracking, talking to a mirror,” he muttered as he rinsed the razor.

Within nineteen minutes, Dr. Napier was gazing down at a redheaded woman, her hands and face blistered like Quentin’s. Vesper, his trainee coroner, was vomiting in the bushes; he’d know her, dated her he said as he rushed away. Napier was intrigued by the faint residue of magic, certain that Lupin had noted it as well. They had a rogue witch or wizard on their hands!

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The girl’s name was Martha. She’d been nineteen, living at home while recuperating from a fall at university. Alain had stared at the red hair for several minutes, remembering another redhead in another lifetime. He didn’t notice he wasn’t alone until Lupin spoke.

“She looks a bit like Lily, doesn’t she?” he said softly. He pulled the sheet aside to pick up the girl’s limp hand, a soft incantation falling from his lips. “Be at peace, young lady,” he said as some of the blisters magically disappeared from her hand.

“The MoM boys wanted a fresher sample than Quentin.”

“The explanation was unnecessary. I recognized the words. I’ve heard them a hundred times at least.” Alain stared down at the draped body, his own shaking with memories. “Who do you think we’re chasing?” he asked tiredly.

“Someone as powerful as you or there’bouts. Been in hiding for years. Has a liking for casting a spell similar to _Avada_.” Remus sighed and scrubbed at his face. “The moon’s coming up stronger and I feel I should recognize the scent, but I just can’t grasp the information yet.”

Alain’s eyes darted to the calendar, confirming Lupin’s words. “Do you need…?”

“Oh, no, no. Hermione’s opened a minority apothecary. High quality, low price, subsidized by D.E. reparations.” Lupin pulled Alain away from the body, from those memories only to plunge him into other _warmer_ ones. “But I do need someone who can work a curse scar. Something here is aggravating it.”

“That wasn’t transparent,” Alain said sarcastically.

“Well,” Lupin looked sheepish, “no, it wasn’t. But I do need your help. If I’m correct, you never let a challenge to your fears keep you from anything.” His grin was tired, a bit frayed at the edges as the moon’s pull grew stronger. “I need your help, or I might miss some vital clue.”

“Fine, fine.” Alain stepped around Remus and searched through his papers. When he found a blank piece, he wrote a phrase on it and passed it to Lupin. “Say that at exactly nine o’clock tonight. You’ll find I’ve been closer than you know. Now leave me to finish my work. My assistant dated the young lady and won’t come in.”

Remus grabbed the paper and left. He didn’t look behind him or he’d have seen Alain’s eyes burning. This Lupin had taken the paper with his left hand. The Remus Lupin that had met Alain in the pub was righthanded.

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Remus appeared just as expected. The waxing moon illuminated him on the front stoop. Alain let him in and then clubbed him with a knobby walking stick as he walked down the hall. He dragged the unconscious man into his living room and onto a wooden chair. He tugged his wand from up his sleeve and felt the words of a binding spell rise up easily.

It took ten minutes for the imposter to come around, and another ten for him to stop struggling against the conjured bonds. He bared his teeth at Alain, guttural sounds pushing past his lips as strange magic began probing for a weakness.

“You aren’t Remus Lupin.”

“You aren’t Iago Lumens or Alain Napier,” the man in the chair countered.

“Why are you murdering people in my county?” Alain asked. He’d heard something in the imposter’s voice, something that triggered the wisp of a memory.

“Your county? Possessive, Snape? I only remove obstacles.” The eyes which should have been sherry brown flashed a stormy grey, giving Alain—Severus Snape—the clue he’d needed.

“Bellatrix LeStrange,” he breathed out in shock. “You died! I saw you limned in the green light of the Killing Curse.”

Remus’ features melted away to reveal the gaunt face and mad eyes of the last LeStrange. “I was always better than you, Snape. The Dark Lord appreciated my ways.” Her eyes glanced quickly left and right, a ploy to make Severus turn, but it didn’t work. “He gave me power when he died. Told me that I’d find those that could lead him back.” Bellatrix’s eyes widened as Severus chuckled.

“Fed you that line of bull, did he?” Severus stared at her, avoiding her eyes. “He only gave you back your true powers. You were always a powerful witch, but I would have thought you’d know your own magic when it filled you.” He narrowed his eyes at drapery cord slithering across his floor, blasting it with a soft _Incendio!_

“Why did you target Quentin and the girl, Martha?”

“Your dirty assistant was forthcoming about your strange habits. Especially after sex.” Bellatrix tried to catch his eyes again. “When he was buggering what he thought was you, let slip that there were others here with stranger habits.” Severus steeled himself against the thought of what else, with who else she’d prostituted his likeness.

“The girl was no Muggle, Snapey. She was dirty, but she was Druid. She could see the really-real me.” Bellatrix’s voice was becoming sing-song, a sure sign that her fragile hold was slipping. “She had to be put down. Down, down, druidy.” She cackled.

“What about Lupin?” Severus tried not to tense up, hating to give her more to use against him.

Bellatrix growled and gnashed her teeth as she wriggled in her bonds. “Tried to kill him Muggle-style. Damned dirty werewolf has better reflexes than expected.” She smirked up at Severus. “Still wants poor, poor Snapey in his bed. Could have had you too but smelled something off. He’s set aside for tomorrow’s tea.”

Severus began chanting a choking hex and Bellatrix’s eyes started to bulge out. He stopped himself before she could pass out. “I won’t kill you, LeStrange, you’re not worth it. I will make your life miserable…”

She cut him off with a yowl. “Miserable?! My husband-lover is gone! The Dark Lord left me alone!” She thrashed in the bonds until the chair tipped over. “All I have is cleaning up. Must clean up for the Dark Lord’s return.” Severus saw the drapery cord resume its slithering approach across the floor, this time towards Bellatrix. “You’re dirty, Snapey, dirty from werewolf lust, from living like a Muggle!” she shouted.

The cord launched itself from the floor like a striking boa. It wrapped itself around Severus’ arms and neck, tightening at a frightening rate. The last sound he heard was Bellatrix LeStrange’s choked laughter.

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“You just can’t stay out of trouble, can you, Snape?” Snape came to in familiar surrounds, the soft ticking of the old-fashioned alarm clock a soothing reminder of his new life. The only jarring note was the sight of bright green eyes framed with unruly dark hair. “Draco, he’s awake. Do you think the potions will have worked?”

Draco Malfoy replaced Auror Potter’s unwanted face. He cast spell after spell for diagnostics, especially over Severus’ face. When he satisfied he sat down and grinned at his former mentor. “Good to see you alive, sir. When Harry told me he’d found you, you could have knocked me over with a feather I was that gobsmacked.” 

“You have forgotten your diction and grammar since our last meeting, Draco,” Severus rasped out. His throat hurt and he must have winced because a hand with a cool glass of lemony water appeared. He drank a few sips before the hand and glass were whisked away.

Glancing over to the other side of the bed, Severus saw Harry Potter setting a glass on the nightstand, next a dewy pitcher. He also saw Remus Lupin, a bit more tattered around the edges than last time.

“We won’t ask what happened, Severus.” Remus looked at Harry who nodded but remained quiet. “LeStrange was still alive when we came to your rescue. Although if you knew it wasn’t me, you should have contacted Harry or at least Draco!”

“Wouldn’t let her hurt you again…”

Remus’ glance softened and he leaned forward. “Bellatrix didn’t realize that a werewolf’s curse can break a great many hexes if given time. She didn’t leave me unconscious, and as the moon’s growing fat so too am I growing stronger. It took me several hours to strip away her hexes and curses until I could escape. I followed her scent to your door—something I didn’t realize Fidelius might not guard against—and crashed through the window as that damned cord tried to strangle you.”

Severus closed his eyes at the reminder he’d been close to death once more. He opened them when he felt someone slip their fingers into his. He looked down and saw blunt fingers, the nails a bit ragged, slipping over his bruised knuckles. 

“Harry’s taken my report, expunging any mentions of Severus Snape. Hermione’s on the Witches’ Council so there’ll be no problem with you resuming your life.” Remus nodded as indistinct words heralded Potter and Malfoy’s exit. “The lads say for you to get better. Malfoy needs some intelligent conversation that doesn’t end in fiery exposition. Even Harry wishes you well. He doesn’t like seeing his only godfather unhappy.”

Severus stared up at the man at his bedside. The eyes were clear, the scars all in their places, even the one he’d inflicted when he’d shoved Lupin out of a Death Eater’s path. “How do you know I can make you happy? You don’t remember anything but that you knew me.”

“Bellatrix gave me a gift when she made me struggle for my freedom. Somehow my magic had been knocked around, sealing old wounds. Those wounds, those memories broke through as I struggled.” Remus put his elbows on the bed, gently clasping Severus’ hand between his. “I _know_ why I know you, Severus. I know the hurt and the hate and the forgiveness. I even know how the shades of your snark can say tender things.”

Chuckling, Severus gasped and then groaned. “Pick a helluva time to woo me, Lupin.” 

“Tomorrow’s Halloween, Snape. I think I’ve had enough tricks to last my—our lifetimes. After my transformation, I’ll expect the treat of your company.” Remus leaned closer and pressed soft kisses to his fingers. “After all, that would be the best trick of all to play on Bellatrix, wouldn’t it? Our laughing, loving, enjoying the peace that she couldn’t shake?” 

Remus growled softly as his face grew closer to Severus’. “If you think this is a holiday prank, I’ll have you know that I’ve had dreams of you, Samhain fires, and chocolaty treats. I think I’m due for them to come true.”

Severus smiled as Remus’ lips touched his. He muttered, “Love means never having to say you're ugly. I’ll wager you just want someone with prettier scars than yours, Lupin.”

Remus pulled back with a grin. “Oh, no,” he laughed. “Didn’t you feel the magic Draco cast on you? There are no scars on your handsome face, Severus.” Remus rubbed his face along the smooth curve of Severus’ left cheek. “That was his treat for this Halloween. I think you’ll enjoy it for a very long time.”

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_~~~ Comments, like rain in the desert, are greatly appreciated.  
Thank you for reading. ~~~_


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